


Your Words On My Skin

by StillTryingToFly



Category: Captive Prince - C. S. Pacat
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Auguste (Captive Prince) Lives, Dirty Talk, Fluff, French as Veretian, Happy Ending, Implied Childhood Sexual Abuse, Kinky, Multi, PWP, Rimming, Sex Work, Soulmates, Spanking, The Author Regrets Nothing, as a treat, eventhough she should, just a little
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-08
Updated: 2020-06-06
Packaged: 2021-03-03 04:00:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,535
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24068512
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StillTryingToFly/pseuds/StillTryingToFly
Summary: Nikandros would eventually come to the conclusion (the same conclusion his parents had reached some fifteen years earlier) that the only saving grace with his Words, was that they were in Veretian and he lived in Akielos where the number of people who could read Veretian was fairly small.
Relationships: Aimeric/Jord (Captive Prince), Ancel/Berenger (Captive Prince), Auguste/Nikandros (Captive Prince), Damen/Laurent (Captive Prince), Lazar/Pallas (Captive Prince)
Comments: 58
Kudos: 115





	1. Nikandros/Auguste

**Author's Note:**

> So I’m back with my regular porny nonsense, this is the most self indulgent thing I’ve written in a while and I’m pretty sure the interested party will be me and like two other people but whatever. So it’s another soulmate AU with first words appearing on people’s bodies you know the drill, each pairing will get their own chapter blah, blah, blah, I’ve only written the first chapter so far but I’m pretty sure all of them are going to be as porny as this one. Anyway I’m in the mood for a Modern AU and I’m horny because of quarantine to have some porn where at least half the characters are sluts and proud! I’ve also tweaked the ages because I can so assume that unless I explicitly state that they are children everyone is over eighteen by the time they meet their soulmate.

Nikandros would eventually come to the conclusion (the same conclusion his parents had reached some fifteen years earlier) that the only saving grace with his Words, was that they were in Veretian and he lived in Akielos where the number of people who could read Veretian was fairly small.

Nikandros could remember being very small and unable to read at all and not knowing what the curling gold across his chest said. He knew from the television soap operas his mom liked to watch that they were the first words his soulmate would ever say to him, but he didn’t know what they were. This worried Nikandros a little; what if he met his soulmate before he learned how to read? How would he know? Determined to fix this as soon as possible four year old Nikandros asked his mother as she was giving him a bath before bed.

“Mama, what do my words say?”

His mother paused with the cup of fresh water halfway to his head and blinked at him in surprise.

“Well,” she said slowly, tipping his head back and washing the shampoo out of his hair as she considered her answer. “It’s in Veretian, and your father and I don’t speak the language so we’re not completely certain how it is pronounced.”

To be fair to his mother, all of that was true; his parents _didn’t_ speak Veretian and the language had strange pronunciation rules so reading as it was spelled was out of the question. However they would later admit they had been able to get it translated and when he was a baby. The problem was there was no getting around the fact that the translator's eyebrows had shot up and her mouth had formed a small surprised little “o” as soon as she read the words on Nikandros’ chest, curling around his pectoral in willowy script.

Je veux que tu me baises si fort que je ne peux pas marcher demain.

Nikandros could understand why you would translate that for a four year old, or even a ten year old but honestly what did his parents think would happen when he started taking Veretian at school? He couldn’t ask the teacher what it said (the marks were so personal and Nikandros was a deeply private person) but he and Damen were smart, they could figure it out together.

“So the first word is definitely ‘I’,” Damen said with his head cocked slightly to the right as he stared at the words he’d copied from Nik’s chest.

They were sitting on Damen’s bed after school with their Veretian textbooks spread open between them flipped open to the dictionary in the back. Damen had a spiral bound notebook open to a clean page and had very carefully copied the words on Nikandros’ chest onto the paper in a neater easier to read print.

“And I think the next bit is “want” and the next bit is “you” and then a verb?” Damen looks uncertain. “And some of the other words I recognize like “tomorrow” and “walk” and there’s a negative in there like “not” I think?”

Damen looked up from where he was flipping through the index for the words he didn’t know and gave Nikandros an apologetic grimace. “Sorry Nik, but I don’t think any of the other words are in here.”

Nikandros just shook his head and gave Damen a small smile.

“It's not your fault, besides we have some of it translated and I think Miss Cassiopeia won’t mind translating the rest for us if we tell her why.”

* * *

When Damen and Nik come up to her before class and explain that Nik’s Words are in Veretian and they could only translate part of it their teacher gives them an indulgent smile.

“I’d be honored,” Miss Cassiopeia told them, reaching for the notebook Nik had held up with shaking hands. The two of them watch as she turns the paper to face her, read the writing up at the top, and watch her eyebrows shoot towards her hairline.

“Ah, well, she’s certainly not shy,” Miss Cassiopeia muttered before turning her attention to the two boys in front of her.

“Nikandros, your Words are...very adult and I think it would probably be better if you translated them yourself.”

Nik’s hopeful face fell, and Damen immediately came to his defense.

“But we tried! We’re not good enough at Veretian yet!”

Miss Cassiopeia smiled indulgently. “Exactly, and that is honestly probably for the best. I think by the time you are proficient enough to translate your Words Nikandros you will be old enough to understand the meaning.”

Six and a half years later this particular exchange would hit Nikandros like a fucking brick when he was able to internet search the one word he still couldn’t figure out. So he had typed his Words into the little box and waited for the translation to pop up. And oh boy had it!

Nikandros flicked his eyes from the box on the left of the screen held his Words, **‘Je veux que tu me baises si fort que je ne peux pas marcher demain’** to the other box where the Akielon translation had popped up.

Nikandros felt his cheeks heating up so fast he almost felt dizzy, and realized that his mouth had fallen open without his noticing it.

“Come on, Nik! What’s it say?” Damen asked impatiently as he leaned over Nik’s shoulder to read the words on the screen.

Nikandros knew he was fighting the inevitable but he couldn’t help it he tried to shove Damen out of sight of the screen before he could see--

“I want you to fuck me so hard I can’t walk tomorrow!?” Damen shouted in his ear before he started laughing so hard he started crying. Nikandros covered his face with his hands and asked himself why his friend was such an asshole.

“I hate you so much right now,” Nikandros muttered into his hands, before giving up and watching Damen curl up in a ball.

“My stomach hurts,” Damen groaned through his next laugh.

“Serves you right,” Nikandros started, hoping to maybe delay this embarrassing conversation.

“Serves _me_ right!” Damen crowed mock indignantly. “You called me a slut just the other day but I’m not the one whose first words to their soulmate are apparently asking them to fuck!”

“Why do you think it’s going to be me?” Nikandros asked indignantly “Maybe they talk first,” he said desperately grasping at straws.

Damen rolled his eyes. “Sure Nik, because people totally say that sort of thing unprompted.”

Nikandros flipped his friend the bird before stomping away.

* * *

Auguste would never be able to forget the look on his father’s face the first time he saw Auguste’s Words. He hadn’t been born with them which just meant he was older than his soulmate, and he knew it didn’t really matter but he still sometimes got an aching feeling in his chest when the other kids in the park would touch their Words protectively or whisper to their friends what would one day be said to them.

He had been getting dressed for school when he noticed the gold words on his back. Overcome with excitement he’d tried to read them in his mirror but when he couldn't he’d run down the stairs and slid on stockinged feet into the kitchen. Both his parents looked up at his exuberant entrance, his mother by the sink and his father sitting at the table.

“Wha--” Aleron started to say but Auguste was already steamrolling over him.

“I got my Words! I got my Words!”

Auguste turned around and gestured wildly at his back.

“What do they say?” Auguste all but shrieked as he hopped from foot to foot in front of his father.

His father was laughing, “Stand still Auguste, I can’t see with you fidgeting like that.”

Auguste willed himself to be still so his father could read the Words on his lower back. There was a beat of silence and then his father made a spluttering choking sound.

Auguste frowned, “Father?”

When Auguste turned his head he saw that his father had gone bright red and wasn’t meeting his eyes.

“What’s it say?” Auguste asked, even more confused than he had been a moment ago.

“Aleron?” Hennike asked with a confused frown. “Is there something the matter?”

Aleron looked deeply uncomfortable, but shook his head. “Not exactly darling; would you mind taking a look as well?”

Auguste stood perfectly still as his mother crossed the kitchen and set her delicate china espresso cup down on the table as she bent down to look at her son’s Words.

“Well,” Hennike said mildly. “You certainly won’t have any trouble knowing who they are with Words like _those_.”

Auguste frowned; that sounded like it should be a good thing, why did father look so upset?

“Is it bad?” Auguste asked quietly, suddenly afraid; the girl who lived in the flat next to them had the Words **Oh gods no! Please don’t die!** written along her spine and it was a source of great anxiety when they had formed.

“No Auguste, they’re not bad, only a little crude.”

“Hennike,” Aleron choked out. “We can’t tell him--”

“Yes we can, or he’ll ask his classmates, and what a fuss _that_ will make. Better to just get it over now.”

“But--”

“No ‘but’ anything,” Hennike said firmly before turning to Auguste, who had been watching his parents like a particularly engaging tennis match. “He can either learn it from us or from other children. Who do you think is better equipped to deal with the situation Aleron?”

Hennike gave her husband a flat unimpressed look and picked up her cup to take another sip.

Aleron made a noise that was suspiciously like a whimper before reaching for his tea.

Auguste felt his face wrinkle in confusion as his mother took his hand and led him out of the kitchen and back up the stairs.

“Why don’t we get you dressed and then we can talk about your Words, alright Auggie?” Hennike asked as she led him upstairs.

“Are my Words like Ines’s?” Auguste asked quietly, voicing the fear that had been gnawing at him since his father had seen his Words.

“No,” his mother said soothingly. “They just aren’t words grown-ups should say to a child and your father was embarrassed.”

“Oh,” Auguste said quietly as they reached his door and went inside. He picked up his discarded shirt and finished getting dressed. Once he was ready his mother took his hand again and pulled him into her lap as she sat on the bed.

“Have you ever heard of a whore, Auguste?” His mother asked as she carefully brushed a golden curl out of his eyes.

Auguste froze; he knew that was a bad word even if he didn’t know why. He told his mother so and she gave a small laugh.

“A whore is a person who does things for other people for money,” his mother said carefully. “And society looks down on them because they are easy targets for disdain, not because they are bad.”

“That doesn’t sound fair,” Auguste said with a frown.

“No,” his mother said with a sad smile. “It’s not.”

Auguste felt more confused than ever. “What does that have to do with my Words?”

His mother licked her lips before she spoke. “Because your Words are **Do you always talk like a cheap whore, or am I just special?** ”

Auguste blinked in surprise and then suddenly felt his eyes filling with tears.

“They don’t like me?” He asked his mother in a horrified whisper.

Quick as blinking Hennike had her arms around him and pressed a kiss to the top of his head.

“I’m sure they like you very much, but it sounds like you will speak first, and your Words will be...crude,” his mother said with a sardonic smile. “You’re a lot like my side of the family Auggie dear. We tend to say exactly what is on our mind with no sense of shame and that can make some people uncomfortable.”

“It’s not fair,” Auguste muttered into his mother’s shoulder and was surprised to hear her laugh.

“No, it’s not fair,” she agreed. “But at least you will never be in doubt about who your soulmate is, and that’s something to be grateful for.”

To Auguste that seemed like a very small silver lining indeed.

* * *

“You are such a slut,” Laurent told Auguste without looking up from his phone.

Auguste merely shrugged as the woman he had been trying to flirt with grabbed her drinks and headed for the busty blonde sitting at a small table.

“Well what else am I supposed to do tonight?” Auguste asked lightly as he scanned the bar for a potential hookup. “We’re on vacation in one of the most beautiful cities in Akielos brother dear, mom and dad are definitely not coming back up for air tonight, and you haven’t looked up from your phone for more than fifteen seconds in the last hour.”

Laurent flipped him off without looking up.

“Who are you even texting? We’ve been here for less than six hours,” Auguste said while trying to get a glance at Laurent’s phone.

“Ancel,” Laurent replied shortly. “He’s keeping me up to date on Aimeric’s blind date. Apparently he thinks I care for some reason. Also,” he looked up from his phone an pinned his older brother with a glare. “You are not bringing a hookup back to our hotel room. If you insist on being a slut, you can let the local defile you in their own home.”

“You say the sweetest things Lolo,” Auguste said while patting the top of his brother’s head. He only got one pat in before he had to jerk his hand back before Laurent could bite him.

“I’m serious Auguste, I refuse to trip over your one night stands just because you’ve decided sleeping your way down the coast is the best way to find your soulmate.”

“Well,” Auguste said with a shrug. “At least mom and dad were forewarned I was going to be a trollop.”

Laurent snorted and turned his attention back to his phone.

Auguste took another sip of his drink and was looking around the bar when he watched an exceptionally tall, broad shouldered Akielon man head for the bar. He looked like the perfect stock image for an attractive Akielon man with his olive toned skin and dark hair pulled into a topknot.

Auguste licked his lips.

“How do you think he’ll react to being propositioned in Veretian?” Auguste asked Laurent without taking his eyes off the man. Laurent gave a long suffering sigh but looked up from his phone and followed Auguste’s gaze till he found who his brother was mentally undressing.

“According to most surveys,” Laurent said dryly. “Akielons either find our accents sexy or condescending. Make it clear you are trying to seduce him, because gods know no one here speaks more than two words of Veretian and your Akielon leaves a lot to be desired.”

The man took his drink from the bartender and turned his head to see two blonde men watching him, one obviously bored, the other obviously horny. He smiled, took a sip of his drink, and jerked his head as if to say ‘well, if you want it, come get it’.

“Well have a wonderful evening Laurent,” Auguste said as he hopped off his stool and headed towards the handsome stranger.

“Be sure to use protection!” Laurent called out without looking up from his phone.

Auguste flipped him the bird anyway.

The man was looking amused by the time Auguste reached him and he decided fuck it, may as well go full throttle horny when no one could understand him anyway, so he leaned against the bar and gave the man his best sultry look.

“Je veux que tu me baises si fort que je ne peux pas marcher demain.”

The man’s mouth fell open.

* * *

Nikandros could not fucking _believe_ this. All the school trips and vacations and backpacking trips he’d taken to Vere over the years in an attempt to meet his soulmate and he met them here, in Ios of all places. Damen would laugh himself sick when he found out. Nikandros would later blame his surprise for the question that popped out of his mouth unfiltered.

“Parlez-vous toujours comme une pute bon marché, ou suis-je juste spéciale?”

The blonde man sucked in a surprised breath and his eyes flew open wide.

“Oh shit,” he muttered under his breath in Akielon before switching back to Veretian. “That is not what I meant to say. I’m so sorr--”

Nikandros was interrupted by the crash of lips on his, as the tall blonde man--his _soulmate,_ his brain screamed at him--hauled him in for a kiss. For a moment Nikandros froze, surprised by the suddenness of the action, but he quickly rallied himself and cradled the back of his soulmate’s head, deepening the kiss until his wildly beating heart calmed itself enough for him to pull away.

“I always figured I was going to proposition my soulmate for them to have said something _that_ depraved as my Words,” Nikandros gasped as he came up for air.

His soulmate snorted and pulled back just far enough to look him up and down.

“Haven’t you heard? All Veretians are whores,” the man said with a laugh before his face softened and he looked almost nervous. “My name is Auguste, what’s yours?”

“Nikandros,” he said with a smile. “What brings you here?”

Auguste raised an eyebrow at the question. “I’m in Ios on a family vacation, I believe I already told you why I’m in this bar.”

Auguste placed one hand on the bar and leaned forward until he was so close he could smell the shampoo his soulmate used.

“I want you to fuck me so hard I can’t walk tomorrow,” he whispered against the shell of Nikandros’ ear.

Auguste is rewarded with Nikandros pushing his half-finished drink back towards the bartender and pulling him through the bar with the air of a man who has accepted the offered challenge.

* * *

Auguste honestly couldn’t remember much of the taxi ride to Nikandros’ place but he remembered being surprised by the sheer size of the place for just a moment (real estate in Ios being almost as insane as it was in Arles) before Nikandros’ mouth was on his again and all thoughts of property value flew out of his mind.

One of Nikandros’ hands had found its way underneath Auguste’s shirt, stroking appreciatively up and down his back while the other one was in Auguste’s hair.

“You never answered my question,” Nikandros rasped along Auguste’s neck, pressing open-mouthed kisses as he went.

Auguste blinked slowly trying to think of what question Nikandros had asked him that he hadn’t answered.

Nikandros must have seen his confusion because he smiled and then leaned in as Auguste had done back at the bar and whispered into his ear, “Do you always talk like a cheap whore, or am I just special?”

Auguste shivered at the sultry tone but tried valiantly to answer.

“I may have made a habit over the years of saying some pretty crude things in an attempt to provoke a response,” Auguste said and he was proud that he only sounded a little breathless.

“Oh really,” asked Nikandros with a raised brow.

“Mh-hm,” Auguste hummed, tossing his head back challengingly and looking Nikandros in the eye. “My own brother would tell you I’m a slut.”

“Is that so?” Nikandros looked amused by the pronouncement. He looked Auguste up and down and then his mouth curved into a smile. “I'm going to ruin you for anyone but me,” he said, and without another word he was pulling Auguste along towards his bedroom.

(They will make it to round three before Auguste realized he'd bitten off more than he could chew with Nikandros.)

Auguste and Nikandros had both divested themselves of their shirts by the time they entered the bedroom and Nikandros wasted no time in pushing Auguste onto the bed and getting to work on opening his jeans. As soon as he had Auguste’s jeans and underwear pushed down to mid thigh he leaned forward and took Auguste’s cock into his mouth.

Auguste had to bring a hand to his mouth to prevent the shout that was threatening to pass his lips, he brought the other had to tangle in the soft curls of Nikandros’ hair. He was lost to the sensation until he heard the snick of a bottle of lube and pushed himself up onto his elbows to give Nikandros an impressed look.

“Where did you even have that? “Your jeans were way too tight to have brought that with you.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Nikandros said with a shrug. “Would you rather I finger you open or would it be alright if I eat you out?”

Auguste’s mouth fell open in surprise and before he could overthink his options he’d shucked the last of his clothes and was presenting his ass to Nikandros.

“If you don’t eat me out I might actually cry,” Auguste groaned into the bedding.

The first press of Nikandros’ tongue against his hole was a shock despite how ready for it he thought he’d been. It had been years since the last time someone had done this for him, he had almost forgotten what it felt like, how even the most gentle of presses could feel like sparklers going off against his skin sending shivers up his spine.

Auguste groaned and tried to press himself back onto Nikandros’ face, moaning in displeasure when he felt hands on hips grip him hard to hold him in place, but then those hands spread his cheeks wider and Auguste decided that was an acceptable compromise. Then the point of Nikandros’ tongue teased just at the inside of his hole and Auguste bucked so hard he almost dislodged the other man.

He couldn’t help the yelp he gave when Nikandros’ broad palm slapped down on his right cheek.

“Hold still,” Nikandros said in a mock chiding tone before continuing his earlier ministrations.

Auguste gaped at the man behind him but Nikandros was too busy driving the point of his tongue further into Auguste’s body to notice the looks Auguste was trying to give him. He could feel the imprint of the hand on his skin, the sharp smack of it fading to a throb that seemed to keep pace with his heart, but more interestingly the throb of it sent something like desire swooping low in his gut.

“Do it again,” Auguste blurted out before he could stop himself.

Nikandros paused in his ministrations and looked at Auguste with a raised eyebrow.

Auguste groaned and wiggled his ass in invitation, “Are you deaf? Do it again!” More demanding than before.

The next slap landed on his left cheek, harder than the first slap had been and Auguste groaned with the feeling of warmth that blooms on his ass. Two more spanks landed in quick succession and Auguste moaned, his hips jerking forward, hands clawing at the sheets beneath him, and he could feel his cock throbbing at the sensation.

 _“More,”_ he managed to gasp out.

Nikandros laughed at him and Auguste would have protested but then he pressed a kiss to his abused right cheek and his palm landed again.

Auguste made a pathetic embarrassing little noise and Nikandros kept going. He didn’t have a consistent rhythm, just landed slaps while licking his way into Auguste’s hole, and working lubed fingers in once Auguste began to loosen up. By the time Nikandros decided that Auguste was loose enough for his cock, Auguste’s ass was bright red, his cheeks were stinging and his cock was so hard Auguste thought he might actually cry.

“I should have known you would be a needy slut,” Nikandros said in a matter of fact tone as he stepped out of his own trousers and went to the bedside table to grab a condom packet before turning back to where Auguste was sprawled gracelessly on the bed. “You love this don’t you? Being spanked and fucked?”

Auguste nodded fervently against the sheets with his eyes closed and was surprised when Nikandros landed three final slaps; one to the inside of Auguste’s thigh, one just under the swell of his ass, and one squarely in the middle of his ass.

Auguste shrieked in surprise but Nikandros just kept smiling at him.

“How do you want to do this for the first round? On your belly or on your back?” Nikandros asked casually.

Auguste twisted his head to look over his shoulder and tried not to gape at him. “First round?” He asked incredulously.

Nikandros nodded as he ripped open the condom packet and slid it onto his cock. “I have spent the last five years knowing, with absolute certainty, that my soulmate was going to want me to, and I quote ‘Fuck me so hard I can’t walk tomorrow.’ Do you really think I’m going to let you out of this bed until I’ve ruined you for anyone else?”

Auguste, his mouth suddenly dry, turns over so that he’s on his back and hooks his hands behind his knees and holds himself open for Nikandros.

“Good boy,” Nikandros said as he slicked himself with lube and walked to the edge of the bed and lined himself up with Auguste’s hole.

Auguste shivered at the slightly embarrassing moniker but then there was the blunt pressure of Nikandros’ cock at his hole and Auguste couldn’t help the whine that slipped past his lips as Nikandros started to take him. Nikandros had been generous with his preparation but he was larger than average and the stretch of him inside Auguste did burn a little but at the same time it was a welcome and familiar pain.

“You alright?” Nikandros asked once he’d bottomed out inside Auguste.

Auguste groaned and hooked one leg around Nikandros’ waist. “I thought you were going to ruin me for everyone else, or was that all talk?” Auguste asks challengingly.

Nikandros gave him a look that very plainly said ‘Be careful what you wish for’, before he pulled his cock out of Auguste and slammed it back in, in one quick unforgiving thrust.

Auguste felt his entire body seize as Nikandros set an almost brutal pace that left Auguste gasping for breath and clutching the sheets up by his head. He would shout but for the fact that it feels like the very air has been pushed from his lungs.

Nikandros didn’t even slow down, just fucked as hard and fast as he saw fit, as if Auguste’s body was merely a tool for Nikandros’ pleasure. The very thought was hotter than it had any right to be, and Auguste did his best to keep at least one leg hooked over Nikandros’ body and lost himself to the sensations.

* * *

“Is this what you wanted?” Nikandros’ voice cut through the fog of pleasure Auguste had sunk into earlier. He was on his hands and knees, exhausted after two orgasms and kept upright by the strong fingers in his hair pulling his head back and exposing his throat.

“Wanted me to fuck you like an animal, like you’re mine,” Nikandros growled low in his ear, before giving the side of Auguste’s neck a firm bite.

Auguste came untouched, wailing as he did so and Nikandros finally slowed and eased out of him.

Auguste was shaking, coming down from his last climax, shuddering and boneless and nearly senseless with pleasure as Nikandros eased him onto his back. Auguste couldn’t help it, he whimpered as his abused ass hit the sheets.

Nikandros tilted his head considering his options; Auguste was on the edge of oblivion, he could tuck him in and be done for the night. That would be the polite gentlemanly thing to do, if it were anyone but this beautiful man beneath him he would have done it already. But he wasn’t in bed with anyone else; Nikandros crawled up the bed and straddled Auguste’s hips and slid two fingers into his mouth. Auguste blinked his eyes open despite his exhaustion and watched Nikandros even as he was carefully sucking on his fingers.

“Would you like to suck me off or should I just jerk off on your face?” Nikandros asked mildly.

Auguste actually whimpered, “Oh my gods, where did you even come from? Aren’t Akielons supposed to be prudes?” He sounds almost hysterical.

Nikandros leaned in and gave him a kiss. “Would you like to come again? Could you?”

Auguste gaped at him, “I don’t know!”

Nikandros smiled down at him, “Let’s find out.”

* * *

The next morning Auguste woke to the sound of his brother’s personalized ringtone. He was in an unfamiliar room and there was also an arm draped over his chest and a warm body pressed snugly behind him and it only took Auguste a moment to remember exactly who it was pressing their morning wood against his ass.

Auguste tried to sit up and look for his phone but the soreness in his ass immediately vetoed that plan and he flopped back down with a groan.

“Who on earth is calling this early?” Nikandros grumbled into his neck.

“My brother,” Auguste said with a small laugh. “He’ll keep calling till I answer him.”

And as if to prove a point the ringtone stopped, was quiet for about three seconds and then started up again.

Nikandros groaned and Auguste started laughing. “I’m afraid you are going to have to get that for me.”

Nikandros raised his head enough to squint at Auguste in the pink early morning light. “And why would I leave _my_ bed when it is _your_ brother calling?”

Auguste smiled, “Because if you do I’ll let you pick how I take care of _that_ for you,” he said while pointing to Nikandros’ erection.

Nikandros blinked at him twice before pushing off the sheets and heading towards Auguste’s discarded jeans.


	2. Ancel/Berenger

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PLEASE MIND THE TAGS!!! Ancel is a sex worker and there is slight mention to underage prostitution that is not in anyway explicit but still might be triggering to some people. Please skip this chapter if that bothers you!!! The BDSM tag refers to an enthusiastically consensual relationship between two adults who are both very into what they are doing and are doing it safely.
> 
> The people have spoken! I will endeavor to work in as much slutty Auguste as I possibly can in future chapters.
> 
> I have honestly no idea why this chapter took so long, only that I was never happy with how it was structured. I ended up cutting about five pages out and just saying fuck it. I'm still not happy but at least it's out of my drafts.

Berenger Guinnet hadn’t told anyone when his Words manifested across his collarbone when he was a child. He would always be a reserved and deeply private person, but as a child he’d been especially introverted and shy. These traits were only exacerbated by his tenure at an all male boarding school after the death of his mother when he was seven years old. She had already been very ill when his Words had appeared and he didn’t want to cause a fuss so he had stood in front of the full length mirror in the guest bedroom and used a small hand mirror to be able to read his Words.

_ Well, don’t you look like a lost little lamb. _

Berenger set down the mirror and frowned. Well, he thought despondently, at least it was distinctive.

* * *

One of Ancel Sanpelier’s fondest childhood memories was of his mother tracing her index finger over Ancel’s Words and telling him what the golden words meant. Ancel loved his mother’s voice and would often demand she tell him stories so he could fall asleep to the sound of her voice.

_ No, no I uh, I’m not lost, I just thought you were beautiful. _

Ancel was glad that his mother had read his words to him when he was young; it would have been a nightmare to try and decipher them once he had started school. Ancel had a complicated relationship with school. On the one hand it had free food and lots of people to practice pickpocketing on (his mother said once he was good enough she’d let him come along with her to the market she usually worked) but on the other hand it also had people who were always trying to make him  _ read.  _ Reading made Ancel’s head hurt and it took forever anyway, and Ancel just couldn’t see what all the fuss was about anyway. Even after he had finally been diagnosed with dyslexia there wasn’t much his teachers could do for him to make the task more manageable and reading was quite frankly not Ancel’s first priority.

His mother had first taken him to the outdoor market near the mountains in Toutaine when he was eight years old. He’d had a great time filching stuff from vendors and patrons alike and afterwards when he and his mother headed back to their beat up car his mother had called him her Artful Dodger.

When he’d asked what that meant she’d given a little laugh and told him it was from a book called Oliver Twist, and if he wanted she could try and find a copy to read to him. Ancel rather liked the idea of a bedtime story and nodded his head vigorously.

She would never get the chance; she got caught stealing from some politician’s wife while they were on vacation and the court wanted to make an example of her because it was an election year. She went to prison and Ancel went into the foster care system and even after she was released she would never regain custody of her son. 

* * *

Some days Berenger’s Words hit him too close to home; the children his own age found him uninteresting because he preferred horses and poetry to video games and Pokemon, and the older students tended to either ignore him completely or see him as an easy target for bullying. He spent a good portion of his childhood feeling very lost indeed, but no one ever really commented on it.

All in all his time in boarding school was tedious in its monotony, but still painful in it’s isolation. He had acquaintances who tolerated him but he didn’t really have any friends, certainly no one he felt comfortable enough with to allow intimacy with. 

Berenger wasn’t  _ ashamed _ of the fact that he was an eighteen year old virgin necessarily, more frustrated by society’s expectations of people his age than in any experience he hadn’t yet indulged in. That being said he was rather looking forward to experiencing at least some of those things now that he was away from the restricting confines of the boarding school and out from under the critical eye of his father. However, nothing he’d seen in movies or television could have prepared him for his college roommate.

Auguste Lafevre had swanned into their shared freshman dorm not ten minutes after Berenger’s father had given a stiff and awkward goodbye, and had proceeded to introduce himself to Berenger with a hearty handshake and an infectious laugh before dragging him off to get a beer at a house party off campus.

Having Auguste as a roommate was the closest thing to an adventure that Berenger had ever experienced; the charming blonde managed to pull him into more interesting situations during orientation week alone than Berenger had ever managed in ten years of boarding school.

Auguste was also incredibly handsome and charismatic, it wasn’t really surprising that lots of people, men and women both, flocked to his side wanting his attention; what was surprising was that Auguste seemed to prefer Berenger’s company above everyone else’s. When Berenger finally worked up the nerve to ask Auguste had laughed.

“You are far more interesting than you give yourself credit for,” was all he said before dragging Berenger away from his essay to get some dinner.

Berenger had never really had a crush on anyone before, but he was pretty sure he was developing one now as he flushed pink and allowed Auguste to steer him into the dining hall on the first floor of their dorm building. As much as he wanted to see how Auguste’s lips would feel against his own, he was afraid of damaging the first friendship he’d ever had for the sake of satisfying his own libido, so he did what he had always done before: suffered in silence.

If there was one quality he possessed, it was self control.

His plan worked perfectly until two months into the first term when Berenger’s usual Wednesday afternoon lecture was canceled at the last minute and he decided to head back to his dorm three hours earlier than he usually would, and opened his door to find Auguste vigorously thrusting into a brunet with a mop of brown curls who was grunting enthusiastically at the pounding Auguste was giving him.

The two men on the bed looked up at the surprised sound Berenger made as he realized what he had just walked in on.

Auguste’s thrusts slowed but didn’t stop as he looked over the shoulder of his partner. 

“You’re back early, was your class canceled?” He asked casually as if he weren’t currently fucking someone who was so blissed out that he regarded Berenger’s interruption with glassy eyes and a slack jaw.

Berenger choked on his own spit, flushing so hard his face felt like it was on fire, squeaked out an apology and spun around slamming the door behind him walking as quickly as he could to the communal bathroom down the hall, where he barricaded himself in the first empty stall and proceeded to jerk off with his fist stuffed into his mouth to keep from making too much noise. Afterwards, staring at the mess of cooling cum on his hand, Berenger realized he might have less of a handle on his crush on Auguste than he originally thought.

When Berenger returned to their room Auguste was lounging on his bed reading a book and the brunette from earlier was nowhere to be seen. Auguste set the book down on his chest as Berenger closed the door behind him. As Berenger made his way across the room to his bed he couldn’t help but notice that Auguste had changed his sheets in the intervening hours. Berenger set his messenger bag down without making eye contact and was trying to work up the nerve to apologize for what had happened earlier when Auguste spoke.

“I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable earlier; I try and only bring hookups when I know you have a class.”

Berenger forced down the question of how many people Auguste had fucked in their room and instead plastered a weak smile on his face.

“It’s fine, serves me right for not knocking first,” Berenger said dismissively, hoping Auguste would drop the subject.

Auguste frowned. “No, it’s your room too. It’s not fair for me to make you uncomfortable in your own space.”

Berenger bit his lip. “It’s not that I’m uncomfortable,” he argued, turning his back to Auguste and fiddling with the strap of his bag so that he wouldn’t have to look at his friend’s earnest blue eyes. “It’s more that I didn’t realize you’re gay too and that was the hottest thing I’ve ever seen.”

Berenger focused on twisting his keyring over and over in his hands; there he’d said it, and now Auguste would be disgusted with Berenger’s predatory lust for his--

“Oh is that all,” Auguste said, relief obvious in his tone.

Berenger spun around to see a smile breaking across Auguste’s face.

“I was worried you were homophobic or were going to slut shame me or something,” Auguste said with a shrug at Berenger’s incredulous expression.

Berenger thought his head might actually explode. “Slut. Shame.”

Augusted nodded serenely. “Yeah, even my soulmate thinks so apparently.”

Berenger spluttered at that piece of information. “You-you’ve met your soulmate already?”

Auguste seemed confused by Berenger’s intensity. “No, but my Words are kind of...” Auguste trailed off, as if unsure how to describe his words. “Crude.”

Berenger gave a weak chuckle and ran a light finger over his collarbone where his Words sat splashed possessively across his chest.

“I know the feeling,” he murmured.

Auguste gave him a sardonic smile. “Your soulmate says you talk like a cheap whore too?”

Berenger gave a harsh snort of laughter before he could stop himself.

“Is that really what your Words say?” Berenger asked, as he sank onto his bed.

Auguste sat up and folded his legs underneath him so he and Berenger were face to face. “Yep, plain as day right above my ass.”

Berenger had to slap his hand over his mouth to stop the laughter that wanted to escape at that. “Your Words are a tramp stamp?” Berenger asked as he lost control and dissolved into giggles.

Auguste’s answering smile was like sunshine. “Yes, yes they are indeed. I kind of hope when I finally meet them we’ll do it doggy style so they can see their words while they fuck me.”

Berenger choked again, spluttering as his face turned a bright red.

Auguste smiled. “You are so easy to wind up!”

Berenger rolled his eyes. “Shut up,” he said easily.

“You are!” Auguste insisted eagerly. “And you blush like a virginal choir boy.”

Berenger blanched. “You can tell?” He asked in a horrified whisper.

Auguste frowned in confusion before his eyes widened in understanding. “Oh  _ hell _ ,” he muttered under his breath. “It’s just an expression, like ‘Sweating like a whore in church’; it doesn’t actually mean anything.”

Berenger blushed harder and looked away.

“Seriously,” Auguste said with a toss of his head. “Virginity is an imaginary construct that was invented by men who thought their penises were so important it changed the fundamental nature of who a person is.”

It sounded like a memorized speech and Berenger smiled despite the slowly receding humiliation.

“That’s all well and good,” Berenger grumbled as he absentmindedly stroked the Words running along his collarbone through his sweater. “But the fact remains that I would actually like to have sex and have no idea how to actually go about finding someone to pop my metaphorical cherry.”

Auguste seemed surprised for just a moment before a lascivious smile spread across his face.

“Well,” he said while looking Berenger up and down. “That’s something I can definitely help with.”

* * *

Ancel never actually read Oliver Twist; he would watch the musical version of the story once when he snuck into the indie theater next to the sex shop on Rue Carves and spent an entire afternoon and evening watching movies until the theater staff realized what he was doing and tossed him out on his ear.

Of all the movies he’d watched that day Ancel decided he liked Oliver Twist the least. The music was irritating as hell, and for some reason everyone seemed happy to be poor and dirty, also Oliver was stupidly gullible and it pissed Ancel the fuck off. That sort of thing never happened in real life, rich men didn’t help poor boys out of the goodness of their hearts with no expectations of a return on their investment. Ancel knew that well enough by the time he was twelve. 

By the time he was eighteen Ancel had discovered exactly how much power he could wield if he played his cards right. To quote Camille Paglia, “The prostitute is not, as feminists claim, the victim of men, but rather their conqueror, an outlaw, who controls the sexual channels between nature and culture.”

Ancel was a virgin the first twelve times he had sex. By the thirteenth time it lacked all plausibility, so he tried something different. Most of the men he had fucked had a fairly standard Madonna/whore complex but the men who wanted to be dominated were actually reasonably interesting.

Ancel found that the best part about fucking men who wanted to be dominated wasn’t even being the one doing the penetrating (the idea that penetration equaled submission was so ridiculous it made Ancel want to laugh) but the fact that afterwards the men he was screwing would open up and tell him things they would otherwise never admit out loud. Knowing secrets was probably the most heady power in the world, especially when they got him into the far more lucrative business of “Legitimate Sex Work”.

People, Ancel decided, were idiots.

* * *

Berenger sighed deeply as he followed Auguste into the BDSM club the other man had been waxing poetic about for the past two weeks. Rouart’s was a high end place with nondisclosure agreements and member lists and private rooms, and it was not at all how Berenger wanted to dabble in his burgeoning interest in BDSM.

(To be fair though, he had no idea how he  _ did _ want to learn more about this sort of thing outside of porn which was scripted and wildly unrealistic and often made him uncomfortable anyway.)

Putting aside how he felt about private clubs, Berenger could not in good conscience let Auguste walk into this nest of vipers alone, because Laurent  _ would _ find out about it somehow and  _ then _ he would devise some elaborate punishment for both of them, and that just did not bear thinking about.

So Berenger looked away from the stage where a diminutive dominatrix was giving a rather energetic paddling demonstration and quickly ordered a glass of sparkling water with a twist of lime before Auguste could order them both elaborate cocktails. Again. As much as Berenger did long for a drink right about now, he also wanted to get through this night with his dignity intact and the best way to attempt that would be sober.

“Do you think she’d put me over her knee and spank me?” Auguste’s breathless voice asked as Berenger took a slow sip from his water and wished it was two fingers of Scotch.

Too used to Auguste’s proclivities after the past four years to be anything but resigned, Berenger turned away from the bar to assess whoever it was that Auguste had singled out.

She was pretty enough Berenger supposed, with dyed purple hair, a cute button nose, dark lashes framing wide eyes, dressed in a tight low-cut blouse that showed off her ample chest and wore a wristband that indicated she preferred the more dominant role.

Berenger shrugged and took another sip of his drink. “You can always ask her I suppose. Maybe if you’re lucky she’ll ask if you always talk like a cheap whore.”

Auguste beamed at him and hopped up and made his way over to the lady in question. Berenger watched him and gave an amused snort when less than thirty seconds later Auguste sank to his knees and cheerfully nuzzled into the woman’s thigh.

Berenger rolled his eyes. Typical.

“Wow! I’m not even into bondage but that is just  _ gorgeous. _ ” Berenger turned to look at the woman next to him who had spoken in an awed tone. Turning to see what had caught her attention, Berenger looked back at the stage and almost swallowed his tongue.

* * *

“Fuck him, Red!” A voice in the crowd cried out; Ancel resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Honestly men were so ungrateful; the ropework he’d done on Jean was nothing short of a work of art and all these ingrates wanted to see was a little rutting on stage. Philistines.

No matter, Rouart had paid him handsomely to give a demonstration on Shibari and Ancel wasn’t going to miss an opportunity to tie up Jean and torment him a little, the snotty little brat certainly needed it every now and again.

* * *

Berenger watched spellbound as the man with the curtain of red hair moved with the grace of a dancer around the man he was restraining with slender green rope. Once he was finished and the other man was suspended above the stage and trussed up like wild game he proceeded to tease him into arousal with calculated stroking and gentle slaps.

Berenger had to bite his lip to keep from moaning out loud. The whole display took less than half an hour but by the end the sub on stage was crying and literally begging to be allowed to cum.

Berenger could empathize, he’d had to press the heel of his hand against his crotch at one point, and was very trying very hard not to imagine himself in the place of the curly haired sub on stage. At least not until he could get somewhere a little more private.

Eventually the redhead had decided the other man had suffered enough and had slipped two fingers into his ass while jerking him off. The man came with a wail of pleasure and those watching roared their approval.

Berernger was a little surprised by how badly he wanted to be in the other man’s place. Maybe it wouldn’t hurt to talk about setting up a... more private scene. If the red haired man was amenable.

* * *

Ancel smiled with satisfaction as Jean shuddered and reached his peak with Ancel’s fingers pressed against his prostate. As he withdrew his fingers he delivered two final slaps to Jean’s already reddened ass and began to undo the knots holding him in place. One of the attendants helped support Jean to the showers backstage and Ancel went to wash his hands and fix his makeup. The show was over, now it was time to hunt.

There was always someone, usually multiple someones, who wanted to go a few rounds with Ancel after a teaser performance like that, so he made sure he had his calling cards in the pocket of his leather pants and after toughing up his eyeliner made his way to the bar.

One of the best things about Rouart’s was that the bartender knew Ancel’s order and never actually charged him for it, so Ancel smoothly slid into the first open seat and was promptly given his preferred drink within moments.

“Good show Ancel,” Raphael, the bartender said with a smirk.

Ancel raised his glass in a mock salute. “Why thank you Raphael. Did you want a turn on stage?” Ancel asked teasingly. “Maybe with a paddle, I went easy on Jean but I think you could take more.”

Raphael just rolled his eyes and started mixing another drink, just like he did every time he and Ancel had this conversation. Their scripted conversation made for excellent cover as Ancel scanned the mirror behind the bar to see who was watching him with desire in their eyes. Tonight it seemed like his best bet was going to be the man sitting next to him with the thick brown sweater and a very pretty pink blush across his cheeks.

Ancel took another sip of his drink and turned to the man in question and looked him up and down in a quietly obvious way before tilting his head to allow the stranger to introduce himself.

The man swallowed thickly, opened his mouth, made a soft squeak, and took a gulp from his drink to cover the motion, blushing furiously as he did so.

Ancel couldn’t help the predatory grin that broke out on his face at the brunet’s obvious nervousness. “Well, don’t you look like a lost little lamb?”

The man choked on his drink.

* * *

“No, no I uh, I’m not lost, I just thought you were beautiful,” Berenger stuttered out honestly as his brain valiantly tried to keep up with what had just happened. All he’d meant to do was ask if the man took beginner clients, he hadn’t expected his Words to come tumbling out of this beautiful man’s mouth. “I’m Berenger, by the way.”

His soulmate-Ancel, the bartender had called him- raised his eyebrows in surprise and set his glass down deliberately. “I...see. Would you like to have this conversation somewhere...” Ancel paused and licked his lips. “A little more private.”

“Yes please,” Berenger said before he could think better of it.

With the same grace he’d shown on the stage, Ancel slid off his barstool and took Berenger’s hand, leading him to one of the private rooms at the back of the club.

Later Berenger wouldn’t be able to say exactly how he ended up shoved against a wall with Ancel behind him, groaning as Ancel guided his palms flat on the wall in front of them.

“Keep them there,” Ancel whispered into the shell of Berenger’s ear. Berenger shivered and felt Ancel’s hands drift down to his hips and unfasten his belt before shoving his trousers and underwear to pool around his ankles.

Berenger had to bite his bottom lip to keep from moaning like a porn star as soon as he heard the snick of the lube bottle opening and then there was the gentle caress between his cheeks and he could feel one slicked finger stroking gently over his hole.

“Relax,” Ancel whispered into the shell of his ear and Berenger couldn't help the little shudder he gave as that first finger slowly sank into his body.

Ancel was steady and methodical with his preparations, moving first one and then two fingers in a constant rhythm inside Berenger’s body when suddenly he crooked his fingers and massaged Berenger’s prostate so unexpectedly that Berenger actually gave a shout of surprise and tried to widen his stance to give Ancel more room. By the time Ancel had three fingers pumping in and out of his ass Berenger was almost ready to cry with frustration.

“Please,” he whispered, his forehead resting against the wall and his whole body trembling with anticipation.

He couldn’t see it but behind him Ancel was admiring the sight of him, his rounded ass and his muscled thighs, spread wide and all Ancel’s for the taking.

_ I could get used to this, _ Ancel decided as he leaned in to nuzzle at the back of Berenger’s neck.

“Good boy,” Ancel whispered, and placed a soft kiss at the base of his neck before he slowly guided his cock into Berenger’s slicked hole.

Berenger groaned low in his throat as Ancel pushed into him steadily, but slowly enough that it didn’t feel overwhelming. Finally Berenger could feel Ancel’s hips against his own ass.

“Let me know when you’re ready,” Ancel whispered softly.

“Now!” Berenger groaned, not caring how desperate he sounded; he’d always liked it when his partners were just a little bit rough with him.

Ancel pulled out slowly until only the tip of his cock was still inside Berenger’s hole and slammed back in.

Ancel quickly set up an almost brutal pace as he thrusted into him from behind and Berenger couldn’t help but feel like a proper slut. The fact that they were doing this in a private room at a club wasn’t helping to make this encounter feel any less ilicit. But the longer Ancel kept pounding into him, his cock hitting Berenger’s prostate with every stroke, the less he found that he cared and found himself giving in to his more primal urges thrusting his hips back to meet Ancel’s thrusts.

Suddenly and without warning Ancel smacked him twice on the ass before taking a step back.

“Wha-what are you doing?” Berenger asked in a shaky voice.

Ancel smiled at him before shedding the silk shirt he was still wearing.

“I decided I wanted to see your face when I make you cum,” he said with a casual shrug. “So take off the rest of your clothes and get on the bed.”

Berenger almost tripped over his feet in his haste to divest himself of his clothes as he made his way over to the bed. He bounced slightly when his back hit the mattress and spread his legs invitingly as Ancel made his way across the room, stroking his cock leisurely as he went. 

Ancel paused at the edge of the bed, tilting his head as if considering his next move before he reached out and grabbed Berenger’s ankles and with surprising strength yanked him down so that his ass rested at the edge of the mattress. Smiling at Berenger’s surprised expression Ancel leaned down to kiss him softly and Berenger took the opportunity to hook his legs around Ancel’s waist.

Ancel drew back just enough to guide his cock back into Berenger, bottoming out in one smooth thrust. Berenger moaned loudly, shifting as much as he could to spread his legs wider. Berenger could barely think anymore; Ancel felt huge inside him, almost burning with the stretch inside him and all he could do was moan like a mindless animal brought low by it’s basest instincts. It felt glorious.

Ancel growled low in his throat before pushing Berenger’s hands above his head. His mouth descended on Berenger’s neck kissing and biting the soft flesh where the neck and shoulder meet, determined to leave a mark.

Ancel moved to hold both of Berenger’s wrists with one hand and slid the other down his chest and over his stomach and started to jerk Berenger off in time with his thrusts.

It only took a few tugs from Ancel’s hand for Berenger to come with a wail, his face screwed up with pleasure, painting his belly and chest with streaks of white. 

Ancel’s hips stuttered as Berenger clenched around him and he came with a bitten off curse.

They lay there panting and sweaty for a few minutes before Berenger looked over at Ancel and said in a voice that only trembled a little, “Next time I want you to tie me up before you fuck me.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, I'll confess: I love Ancel and Berenger. Even before I read Pet, I loved the idea of this vicious, ambitious, materialistic little redhead because I am also a vicious, ambitious, materialistic redhead. I especially love that he falls in love with someone so down to earth and nice because quite frankly that baffles him. Anyway I gave him dyslexia in this AU because I have it and I just wanted to see someone with my learning disability so there you go. I also have a few pages of dialogue that I cut from this chapter that I'll try and work in somewhere else so be on the lookout for that.

**Author's Note:**

> PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE LEAVE A COMMENT I AM BEGGING YOU!


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